Side Effects May Occur
by Loja
Summary: Bruce takes a young Dick Grayson to get his routine vaccinations for school, with less than typical results.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm going to Ecuador this summer, so for the past couple months I've been getting a veritable battery of vaccines. Being one of perhaps five people in the world that actually reads all the materials included with the vaccines, the inspiration for this story came from those.**

* * *

Bruce entered the foyer and handed his coat to Alfred just in time to hear the tinkling shatter of what could only have been a priceless and irreplaceable glass work of art meeting its untimely demise on the second floor near the grand staircase of Wayne Manor.

Alfred looked towards the source of the noise, quirked his eyebrow and looked back at Bruce. The billionaire, newly arrived at home from a particularly harrowing Thursday at work which involved no less than three employee reprimands; two teleconferences with partner firms in Japan and Germany; a meeting with the Board of Directors to discuss the final details of the San Francisco merger; and a Gotham Gazette interview to publicize the Wayne Foundation's new plans to build a free childrens' hospital downtown, gave a sigh that was a subtle mixture of both exhaustion and frustration.

"Dick! Was that you?"

A young boy with jet-black hair, wide blue eyes and a sheepish look peered over the banister to look at the entryway. "Uh…would you believe me if I said no?"

Bruce walked to the foot of the stairs and placed his hand on the banister as he stared up at the boy. "That was the vase, right? My great-grandmother's Victorian vase, the one that I warned you about last time you were caught doing handsprings up there? That _is_ what you were just doing, wasn't it?"

"Um…I'm really, really sorry Bruce. You can totally take my allowance for like, the next three centuries!" Dick begged as he rushed down the stairs to meet his guardian.

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he stared down at the boy whose face betrayed nervousness for fear of retribution. True, he always did think that vase was among the Manor's uglier décor, and there was certainly no attachment to it on his part. But ugly or not, the vase was still an heirloom—much like almost everything else in the house—of a prominent ancestor, and Bruce had already warned Dick once. At this point, he knew the rule and blatantly decided to break it. He shook his head. "Go get the broom and clean it up. You're on kitchen duty for the next week after we get back from our trip, and if that kitchen isn't _spotless_ while you're in charge of it then consider yourself grounded indefinitely. Are we clear?"

Dick nodded quickly, relief flashing through his body. "Yeah, crystal! I'll go get the broom!" And with that, he bounded off the stairs and towards the kitchen.

Bruce sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose as Alfred approached him. "What's gotten in to him? I thought Dick was more careful than this."

"He is a _child_, Master Bruce, and by nature children are prone to boughts of carelessness. At any rate, a boy with his usual activity levels could no doubt have issues adjusting to the current options for activity that he has."

Bruce nodded. Of course, Alfred was right. Dick had been accustomed to rigorous trapeze and acrobatic training by day and demanding performances by night, along with a host of other circus activities, since age three. By all accounts, the one constant in the boy's life had been movement. His current living situation must have felt to him like being morphed from a bird into a statue overnight.

To his credit, Bruce had been trying almost since Dick's first day at the Manor to remedy this effect. At first, he had found the boy's constant movement and apparent inability to remain in one spot for more than a couple minutes at most to be overwhelming, maybe even a little annoying at times. But over a short amount of time, Bruce started to find the habit endearing…well, cute even. When he came home from work, Dick was often carefully nestled away in a tree above the garage entrance, ready to jump on the expensive car's hood as it waited for the door to open. When he worked on cases in the cave, Dick frequently followed him to play on the rudimentary gymnastics equipment in the training area, performing ever more complicated moves in an attempt to steal some of Bruce's attention from his work. When he was sequestered in his study, it was not unusual to find Dick sneaking in to some precarious nook or cranny to read his book or play his video game while Bruce worked.

In almost anyone else, Bruce would have found this blatant violation of his policy of total privacy when outside of the public eye to be unacceptable. But this kid was…_effervescent_. He had a light to him. Every scowl, frown and growl that Bruce shot his way, he soaked in and morphed into fuel for more light. How could a dark knight fare well against such a formidable opponent? Bruce realized his defeat when it became clear to him that he enjoyed his time at home significantly less when Dick was not around. Hell, he had even begun resorting to _looking _for Dick when he was not immediately present.

Alfred's discreet throat clearing interrupted Bruce's thoughts. "Sir, perhaps it is prudent now to remind you that Dr. Thompkins will be arriving at the airport in one hour. If I am to fulfill my promise of meeting her there before our flight, then we had best leave soon."

"Where are you going, Alfie?" Dick returned from the kitchen with a broom and dustpan in his hands.

Bruce answered for the butler. "Alfred and Leslie are leaving for San Francisco this afternoon. You and I will be going tomorrow since I can't miss work and you can't miss school."

Dick cocked his head to the side. "How come Alfred can't just come with us tomorrow?"

"Dr. Thompkins' cousin lives in San Francisco. Due to Ms. Thompkins' demanding work schedule, the largest amount of time she has to see Dr. Thompkins this weekend is tonight. I offered to accompany Dr. Thompkins to San Francisco this afternoon so that she would not be forced to navigate a new city without a companion."

Dick winkled his nose. "Leslie doesn't seem like the kind of person who doesn't like doing stuff alone."

Bruce chuckled as Alfred responded. "Quite an astute observation, Master Dick. However, departing today also permits me to spend the entirety of tomorrow as well as Saturday to work with the catering staff there to plan and execute the gala to celebrate the merger between Titan Tech and Wayne Industries. It is quite an important event, and one in which I hope to see exemplary behavior from you for its duration."

Dick giggled. "Aw, come on Alfie, when do I ever misbehave? Well, except for the whole vase thing…"

"And the puppy." Bruce interjected suddenly. "And the games you downloaded onto the Bat Computer. And that last inappropriate use of your training on the school bullies. And—"

"—I have no doubt that you will behave appropriately, Master Dick, as you usually do. If you would both excuse me now, I have a few more items left to pack. Master Bruce, may we leave in fifteen minutes?"

"Sure, Alfred." And with that, the butler made his way up the stairs. Bruce looked down at Dick and gave him a grin that barely masked his apprehension. "Looks like it's just you and me for the night, chum. Got any ideas for dinner? We could try to make something…"

The look that flashed through Dick's eyes then vaguely reminded Bruce of a panicked cat. "Uh, no offense Bruce, but you're not the greatest cook…maybe we can go out and get something to eat? Like at Sultan of Pizza?" He finished hopefully.

"An excellent idea, Master Dick." Alfred appeared on the second floor handrail and stared down at them. "I considered making dinner for you both before departing, but thought better of it upon recalling that the young master has been asking to go to that restaurant for weeks. Master Bruce, I'm sure you can take time out of your _busy schedule_ to fulfill Master Dick's simple wish, can you not?" The butler turned a critical eye towards the billionaire and carefully emphasized his words with a harshness that alerted Bruce of the heavy magnitude of the cold shoulder he would receive from Alfred were he to choose the incorrect response.

"Uh, yeah chum. Definitely we can go there. We'll get any toppings you want." A small smile escaped Bruce's lips as he saw the joy in Dick nearly lifting him off the ground.

"Aw yeah! Pineapple and anchovies! With _hot sauce_!" And with that, the boy bounded up the stairs with the broom.

_Great_. Bruce groaned inwardly. _Looks like it's a Pepto Bismol kind of night…_A ring of Bruce's cell phone interrupted his thoughts again. Hastily he answered it, noting that his caller ID indicated that the number was local. "Hello, this is Bruce Wayne."

A cool female voice answered him. "Hello Mr. Wayne, this is Jean from the Gotham Academy speaking."

"Hello Jean, what can I do for you today?" He responded pleasantly. But underneath his masked voice, suspicion had already begun to set in.

"It's concerning your child Richard. As you know, when we admitted him to the Academy back in September, he was a child with rather…special circumstances, having recently come from an unfortunately deceased transitory family that homeschooled him. Since he had just faced a rather brutal tragedy and preliminary searches of his parents' belongings did not turn up any of his educational and medical records, the Academy was willing to temporarily exempt him from our required record submissions prior to his entry into our school in the interest of letting him start the school year with his classmates."

"Yes," Bruce added, his pleasantries quickly deteriorating from his voice. "Please go on."

"Well, it appears that Mr. Pennyworth was finally able to find Richard's considerably short medical records among the Graysons' belongings recently. He faxed them over to us a few days ago. Mr. Wayne, it appears that the boy has never had an inoculation in his life."

"Yes, well, the Graysons moved around quite a bit. They didn't really have a family doctor, I'd imagine." Or the money for a doctor more than was absolutely necessary, but she doesn't need to know that, Bruce thought. "Other than the fact that he's missing out on the immunization benefits, is there a problem with this?"

"Yes, Mr. Wayne, unfortunately there is. Our state requires that all children receive the DTaP, MMR, polio, varicella, and Hepatitis B vaccines before starting school, and our school additionally mandates that all children receive the Hepatitis A vaccine. Richard has had none of these."

"I see…Dick has to get these inoculations to continue going to Gotham Academy?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Unless, of course, he is eligible for a health or religious exemption. Does he have either of those?"

"No, he doesn't. And regardless of state and school requirements, I think he should have all those vaccinations anyway so he stays healthy. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Jean. I was unaware until now that this was the case with Dick's medical history."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne. Richard can continue going to school as he's completing all his doses for the vaccines. We just need you or Mr. Pennyworth to have the doctor's office fax a notice of completion for each of the vaccines. And we'd preferably like to start seeing those notices as soon as possible."

"Alright. We'll get started on those as soon as possible, then, and keep the school informed. Thank you Jean, have a nice day." He hung up the phone and looked up to see Dick huddled between two banisters, peering at him with wide, curious blue eyes.

"What was that about, Bruce? Something about me and my family?"

"'My family and I,' Dick." He corrected tiredly. "And yes. Apparently, you aren't up to date on your vaccinations. Do you remember your parents ever taking you to the doctor to get shots?"

"Um…no, I never went to the doctor much. The only time I can remember is when I hurt my wrist when we were practicing and my dad took me to something he called a free clinic and the doctor put a brace on it. Do…do I have to…get shots? I've never had one before…"

Bruce heard the fear in the boy's voice and felt that same bizarre pang of pain in his heart that had a strange habit of showing up only when Dick appeared to be under duress. The surge of protectiveness for the boy welled up inside him every time a frown darkened that impish face. This time was no different. Silently he cursed the institution that insisted on putting his boy through a battery of doctor visits and the natural fear and pain that children associated needles with. However, if Dick was serious about becoming Robin, then he would be exposed nightly to the seedy underbelly of Gotham—which was, among other things, a frequent harbinger of disease. Having vaccine protection could only help the boy, and keep him focused on the more immediate dangers—like the guns. At any rate, even if he had no intention of becoming a costumed vigilante, not having Dick get his vaccinations only sent the boy the message that it was okay to avoid doing things necessary for his health and well-being just because he didn't want to do them. And there was _no _way Bruce would allow that. That boy was going to live a long and healthy life, dammit. Comfortably longer than Bruce's, to avoid any chance of…well…

"It's okay Dick, they aren't that bad. I've had lots of them before. It's just a little prick and you're done. Think you can handle that?"

"Yeah, I guess…when do I have to start?"

"Let's find out." Bruce pulled out his cell phone again and dialed Leslie's cell number. "Hello Leslie…yes, we're leaving for the airport in a few minutes…I just got a call from Dick's school saying that he hasn't had any of the required vaccines and that we need to get started on those immediately. I know that some of them have multiple doses…take him by the clinic today? Alright, we'll do that after I drop off Alfred. Thanks Leslie."

He hung up the phone again and looked at Dick. "Leslie says to stop by her clinic today and the nurse can get you started on your vaccines. We'll stop by after the airport, so hurry on cleaning up the mess up there. We need to get going."

"Excellent, Master Bruce." Alfred called out drolly as he made his way down the stairs with his bags. "I was beginning to think that the only way I'd ever get out of here was if I called the airline and requested the plane perform a porch-side pick-up!"

* * *

To say that Bruce was a bit frazzled under his cool exterior was an understatement. Coming in to the airport, they'd hit stop-and-go traffic, and the car behind him went when she should have stopped. The result was a fender bender on Bruce's Mercedes and a woman sobbing and begging him not to make her pay for it. Five minutes later, after having miraculously circumnavigated the traffic, Dick's new Superman comic flew suddenly out of the open window, resulting in an additional three minutes of him begging Bruce to turn around and go back for it. After Bruce had finally succeeded at convincing (forcing) Dick to accept that the comic was gone for good, he noticed red and blue lights flashing in his rear-view mirror. After a $150 speeding ticket, they finally arrived at the airport only to compete with a host of other cars trying to load and unload passengers and luggage. Finally, after prying Dick away from the airport's bookstore in his desperate attempt to find a replacement Superman comic, Bruce managed to wish Alfred a safe flight and get back on the road.

No sooner had he left the airport's drive that his cell phone began ringing incessantly. First it was from San Francisco: a few surprise executive decisions left to be made. He hurriedly ended that conversation to take the call from the head of the R&D department, who reported a glitch found in the new military combat training cyber-simulations. No sooner had he hung up from that call that his phone blew up again with Lucius Fox in the caller ID.

"Lucius." Bruce answered as he sped through downtown Gotham towards Leslie's clinic. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Bruce. Some last minute paperwork came in for the merger that can't be sent back to Titan Tech without your signature. We're trying to get this done as quickly as possible, these new additions being last minute and all. Would you be willing to swing by the office and sign them?"

Bruce sighed. "Is this going to take a while?"

"Unfortunately, it might."

Bruce glanced sideways at Dick. "Alright, that's just the way it will have to be. I'll just have to order in takeout for Dick. He's with me right now."

Dick's head snapped around in attention as he looked at Bruce. "Takeout? But I thought we were going to Sultan of Pizza!"

"I'm sorry Dick but I can't do that anymore, something's come up back at the office. Lucius, just have the papers out on my desk—"

"Bruce! You _told_ me _and _Alfred that we could go to Sultan of Pizza tonight!"

The final tie to Bruce's patience snapped. Without warning, he wrenched the car wheel to the right and ignored the offended drivers blasting their horns as he crossed through three lanes of traffic to the closest empty spot on the side of the road. He threw the car in park and whirled around to face Dick.

"Listen to me and stop your _whining_. I'm an adult, and sometimes adults have to do boring things instead of fun things but we don't complain because we're _responsible_. And I know you don't like that because you'd rather go off and have fun like the world is some big game but it _isn't_ so _tough shit_. And whether you want to or not, you need to face the fact that you're growing up and this is the reality you need to get used to, because I have news for you Dick, we don't always get what we _want_. And screaming and beating your fists isn't going to change a damn thing! Do you UNDERSTAND?!"

Dick's eyes had widened slowly as Bruce was talking. He instinctively flattened himself against the car door, as far away from Bruce's imposing form as possible. "Y-yessir. I understand."

"I offered you an acceptable solution, didn't I? I said we could do takeout. Hell, we could even order pizza from that same restaurant you want to go to! Why is that not good enough for you?!"

"…Because…"

"Because _why_, Dick?"

"Because…it's just…"

"Just say it! Why is this so important for you?!"

"Because I wanted to spend time with you." Dick's eyes grew shiny with tears as his lower lip trembled. A single tear escaped his eye as the rest of his body began to shake slightly. "You've been so busy the last couple weeks…" His breath hitched as he looked into the window and away from Bruce, light reflecting from his wet and reddening eyes.

The billionaire froze. He felt his heart creeping into his throat. His mouth remained slightly agape, but the words that he was intending to say next were slain in his throat by Dick's simple statement. As he reached his hand up to brush it through his hair exasperatedly, he felt his face going hot with what could only have been described as shame. Making an extreme and failing effort to hide his wincing as the boy began to sniffle, he turned away from Dick and put the car in drive. "I'm sorry Dick. That's just going to have to be another time." He mumbled in a deep, throaty voice. Their car rejoined the traffic moving towards Leslie's clinic. Bruce's face became impassive, but the look hid a barrage beneath.

I'm such a bastard, Bruce thought. He said he wanted to spend time with me—God knows why—and that's what I tell him? I'm sorry? He's nine years old for chissakes! He's already been through more than most adults go through in their lifetimes. Why in the hell did I feel it was necessary to give him another reminder of how shitty life can be? Bruce berated himself mentally.

He looked back over to Dick in the passenger's seat. Bruce felt his stomach revolt slightly when he saw that the child had stiffened his lip and wiped his eyes, but the red, shiny sheen remained in them as he stared lifelessly out the window.

No wonder everyone doubted me when I said I wanted to take a kid in. I'm the worst person on the face of the planet for a parenting job and everyone can see it, even Dick, Bruce brooded.

The rest of the drive was completed in silence, the miserable atmosphere of the car punctuated only by the outside sounds of an occasional car honk and the rumble of the Mercedes' engine.


	2. Chapter 2

**I just want to thank everybody for the reviews from the last chapter. I really enjoyed reading them and finding out your opinions on the story and the writing, and they're another great motivator to keep going. I'm leaving for Ecuador this week, and when I'm there I don't really know how much time I'll have to write so I can't say for sure exactly when the next update will be. Thank you all so much for your interest and hope you enjoy the next chapter.**

* * *

The double doors opened to reveal a sterile white waiting room fairly bursting at the seams with crying young children, families speaking rapidly to each other in several different languages, adults frowning as they wrote on clipboards, and a few harried-looking nurses in flowery scrubs moving among the crowd. Bruce and Dick walked through the controlled chaos towards the reception desk, which was currently being staffed by a young woman who looked like her shift should have ended about four hours ago.

"Hello," Bruce offered tentatively as he gestured towards Dick, "he needs a vaccine today and we were told—"

"Fill this out." Without even glancing up at the pair, the nurse handed Bruce a clipboard with several papers and pen as she continued to type on her computer. "I'll look at your paperwork when you're done and we'll go from there."

Sighing, he accepted the paperwork and selected two of the few available worn cloth seats in between an older man with gauze held against one of his hands and a woman who was gently cooing a teary-eyed toddler. Dick followed and sat down in one of the chairs next to Bruce, his eyes, glinting with a lost look, trained unwaveringly on the white and grey tiles on the floor. His shoulders drooped as he swung his feet absentmindedly back and forth. His mouth was pulled down into a miserable frown.

Great, Bruce thought. Now he can't even look at me. Not that I blame him, he added silently. I spoke to him back there in the same way my father spoke to me when he was angry. My father was a brilliant man but…our conversations didn't always display the best of pleasantries. And Dick is…more susceptible to emotions than I was and am now. He feels everything in spades. Happiness…and hurt.

Bruce tore his side glance away from the boy and began filling out the papers on the clip board. There were forms for health insurance, past medical history, HIPAA privacy notifications, and vaccine general information. He bit his lip and skipped the second form, realizing with a vaguely sickening jolt that he did not know any of Dick's past medical history other than the fact that he had never been vaccinated against anything and no chronic illness had ever been discovered in him. He paused briefly at the sheet's inclusion of family health history before hastily checking the box marked 'patient is adopted/unaware of family medical history' at the bottom of the page and shuffled the sheet to the bottom of the small paper stack.

Once the forms had been completed, Bruce briefly looked over the general vaccine information once again before returning all the papers to the clip board and walking back up to the front desk. He flashed the harassed receptionist one of his award-winning, pocketbook-melting smiles and handed her the paperwork. "All done."

The smile slicked off of her like butter on a skillet. She glanced up at the billionaire briefly before returning to the furious typing on her computer. "What shot will he be receiving today?"

"Well, he needs all the shots that are required for school…does it matter which one he gets first?"

"No." Her tone revealed a mounting air of boredom and impatience.

"Alright…let's go with the first dose of the Hepatitis A." Bruce said as he did a quick mental scan of each of the vaccines the school receptionist had listed and settled on one.

"That's not required for school." She blurted abruptly while still withholding the dignity of eye contact.

"It is for his school." Bruce's false joviality was quickly evaporating in the face of the receptionist's less than enthusiastic work ethic.

"Okay then. I'll get this processed and send it to the nurses back there." She gestured with her chin to the closed door beyond the waiting room. "Have a seat until they call his name and read this." She slid a paper towards him on the counter. Bruce glanced at it and noted that it was a CDC informational about the Hepatitis A vaccine. He scanned through the information as he returned to his seat next to Dick.

A few minutes of silence between the pair passed, which was punctuated by the ever-present sounds of crying children, stressed adults and authoritative nurses attempting to direct the disorder. Dick's eyes remained trained to the floor as his hands, incapable of idleness for more than a few seconds, played absentmindedly with the zipper on his jacket. Bruce, unaccustomed to a lack of boisterous and energetic conversation whenever Dick was his companion, finally cleared his throat and shifted in his too-small seat. "Are you scared of getting your first shot?"

"No." Dick answered in a small voice, his eyes never leaving the ground. It was an evident lie betrayed by his sudden ceasing of all motion and a noticeable widening of his eyes. But he had already given Bruce one reason to yell at him today. He shrank into his chair a bit at the thought of Bruce yelling at him again if he was not brave or patient enough with his shot. His subtle change in demeanor did not go unnoticed by Bruce.

"Well, that's good then. You know there's nothing that you should be afraid of, right? It's just a little prick your arm and you're all done. You've definitely faced worse. You'll be just fine." Bruce comforted as he stared directly ahead of himself.

A brief moment of silence passed again between the two before Dick's eyebrows knitted together, his frown deepened and he finally stole a glance at Bruce for the first time since the car ride. "Are _you _scared of me getting my first shot?"

Bruce's face jerked towards the boy in surprise. "Why would I be scared of you getting a shot? I've had lots of them before and they aren't anything to worry about. I just want you to know that it may sting a little when it goes in your arm. It's okay to say that it hurts; no one is going to think less of you. And if it hurts too much just let the nurse and I know and we'll make sure nothing is wrong with the injection. I don't want to scare you, but that can happen with needles sometimes. They go into the wrong spot on the body. If you think that's the case, you need to tell me so I can do something about it. But don't think that I'll _have _to do anything, because I _won't_, because you…I…we're going to be fine." He finished lamely as he sunk further into his seat.

Dick looked at him suspiciously. "_We're_ going to be fine? Are you getting a shot too?"

"Well, no, it's just that—you're going to be fine." Bruce looked away from the boy as he finished his sentence quickly while making a valiant effort to purge the image of Dick's face contorted in pain as the nurse repeatedly stabs his shoulder to find a suitable place to inject the serum.

He felt a wave of gratefulness for the nurse that opened the door behind the receptionist's desk and smiled as she called Dick's name. Her interruption of his thoughts quickly chased away the worrisome possible scenarios buzzing in his mind with increasing volume and discomfort.

"That's us." The pair stood as Dick attempted determinedly to hide his apprehension. Bruce, noticing the boy's inner turmoil, attempted to offer him a small smile of encouragement, but he missed Dick's eyes as they returned to their fixation on the floor. He then put his hand on Dick's shoulder as they passed through the doorway and offered it a small squeeze. In response, Dick visibly stiffened and sped up slightly so that Bruce's hand fell uselessly to his side as they walked down the hallway towards a door at the end.

He doesn't know how to act around me right now, Bruce thought grimly as his heart dropped into a pit that vaguely resembled shame. He's angry and confused because I took out my frustration on him. He thinks it's his fault and he doesn't know why. He just doesn't understand—kids his age are too young to know how adult concerns permeate everything. Being a kid, you deal with one worry at a time. It just doesn't work like that when you're my age…sometimes things spill over into places where they shouldn't. But he's a smart kid…he'll figure it out. I won't have to explain it to him. That could get…I don't know…emotional. No need to go through that when he can easily get it himself.

"Come in." The nurse smiled warmly again as she opened the door and stood aside to allow the man and his charge to walk into the room. Someone had obviously gone through great pains to attempt to make children feel less vulnerable in this room, though the attempt did seem rather poorly meshed and perhaps a decade outdated. A few faded Mickey Mouse, Mini Mouse and Goofy stuffed animals laid scattered about among the tops of the whitewashed cabinets; a milk crate filled with raggedy childrens' toys took up a large amount of the room's counter space; a framed poster of Buzz Lightyear on the wall proudly proclaimed 'To infinity and beyond!'; and the stickers that adorned the examination table shouted colorfully rendered phrases such as 'I got a shot today!' and 'An apple a day so I can play!'

"Richard, please sit down on the table. My name's Sherri, and I'll be giving you your shot today. Mr. Wayne, I understand that your son needs the first dose of the Hep A vaccine?"

Bruce briefly and inconspicuously gave the nurse a look-over. She was middle-aged and short, with her curly red hairstyle adding about another seven inches to her height. She wore hot pink scrub pants with an obnoxious pink, orange and yellow floral shirt to match. He carefully examined each of her facial features for signs of stress or anticipation, but picked up only on the signs of a relaxed and clear demeanor. This nurse had obviously done many of these injections before, and had no qualms about performing another one successfully. Bruce calmed minutely. His boy was in good hands.

"Yes, he does. This will be his first shot, though. But I think he's ready for it." For some inexplicable reason, Bruce felt it unnecessary to correct her use of the term 'son.'

A look of surprise appeared on Sherri's face. "First one ever? Wow, that's quite unusual for a boy your age these days! Are you scared?"

"No." Dick said as he raised his chin a bit. Defiance in the face of fear. It was one of the first things that had made Bruce realize that Dick was no ordinary child. He first saw it in the look that flashed through Dick's tears as he cried over his parents' bodies. It was a look that belied and incredible and uncommon inborn courage. But courage or no courage, Bruce had also been struck with the same thought at that tragic moment that he was experiencing now: Dick was so _small_. Surrounded by the massive examination table, his feet dangling far off the ground, the boy seemed dwarfed by all the imagined terrors that a hospital room could hold despite his best attempts to look large and stalwart. Instinctually, Bruce moved closer to him.

Sherri chuckled slightly. "Well aren't you brave? That's right, though. You have nothing to be afraid of. Are you feeling healthy today?"

"Yeah." Dick nodded and swung his feet with more force. Bruce shook his head. That boy never could sit still.

"Good. Can you remove your jacket and push your shirt sleeve up for me?" He complied, handing Bruce his small jacket.

"Are you getting this for school?" Sherri asked dismissively as she applied a small amount of antiseptic onto a cotton ball and rubbed his left shoulder with it.

"Uh-huh." He spoke in a level tone, but his eyes strayed knowingly towards the vial in her shirt pocket.

"Okay. Are you ready?"

"Um, yeah." He readjusted himself on the seat and looked at the nurse.

"Be sure to not look, Dick." Bruce blurted suddenly next to him. "It's a lot easier if you don't look."

Dick cocked his head to the side as he stared at his guardian. "But I kind of wanted to see it."

"Just…for me, okay? Just look away for me."

"…Okay." Dick said resignedly. Sherri attempted to hide her smile as she removed the cap from the needle. First-time parents were all the same. True, she had no proof that this man was a first-time parent, but she did not need it. It was all evident in his demeanor.

"Okay Richard. Here it goes, just keep this arm relaxed and keep being brave for your Dad and me!" And with that, she stuck the needle into his shoulder and began administering the serum. Bruce felt a small smile form on his lips that was a result of the massive burst of pride within him. Despite the tension between them, Dick had been true to his word and looked away. He had barely even winced as the needle went into his arm, and not a single tear formed in his eyes from the pain. Sherri was probably expecting him to flinch and cry, Bruce thought triumphantly. Well maybe everyone else's kids do that, but not mine!

"All done." Sherri grinned as she held a cotton ball up to the mark in his shoulder. "Wasn't so bad, now was it?"

"Not at all." Dick smiled up at her.

"So which Band-Aid would you like? We have dinosaurs, sports and Superman."

"Superman!" Dick responded equally as quickly as Bruce could utter a few mental expletives at the nurse's mention of the hero's name in the boy's presence.

"Superman it is then." She applied the Band-Aid on his shoulder and then looked back and forth between Dick and Bruce. "Now, some side effects may occur from this shot. They're almost never serious, and they're less common in kids. Richard, you may feel some soreness where the shot went into your arm. It might also make you feel a little sick for just a little bit, but that just means that the vaccine is doing its job." She trained her gaze on Bruce. "Usually we can administer multiple vaccines in one day, but since this is his first, we're only going to give him one today and see how he reacts to it. Take him to the hospital if he gets a rash or has any serious symptoms like that. You can come back for the second Hep A dose in six months; until then, you can also get started on his other vaccine doses in a few days."

"Alright." Bruce answered. "Is there any chance he could react to the vaccine badly?"

"There's an extremely small chance of allergic reaction. Highly unlikely he'll have to worry about that at all. But like I said, if he displays any serious symptoms, take him to a hospital immediately."

"Sounds good. Thank you, Sherri. Dick? Ready to go?"

The boy slid off the table. "Bye, Sherri!" he waved as they walked out the door and returned to the receptionist's desk. Bruce handed the harassed front desk nurse his credit card for payment, taking care to explain to her that he wanted to opt to pay for the full cost of the vaccine instead of leave it to be covered by the free clinic. Suddenly, his cell phone rang. Lucius Fox's name again appeared in the caller ID and Bruce swore lightly under his breath before pressing the green call button. "Yes, Lucius?"

"Hello, Bruce. Can I ask where you are?"

"I'm at Leslie's clinic. Dick just got his shot and now we're leaving. Are the papers ready?"

"Nurse? My arm feels a little funny." Dick frowned as he rotated his arm to get a better look at his shoulder.

"That's a symptom of the shot. It's a thick serum in the Hepatitis A vaccine. Can you get his attention by chance?" She indicated towards Bruce, who was talking further with Lucius about the technicalities of the paperwork.

"Uh, it's not really a good idea to interrupt him." Dick replied nervously as his eyes darted in between the counter and the receptionist.

Bruce handed his credit card to the receptionist as he listened to a reply from Lucius. She surreptitiously rolled her eyes and ran the card through the machine as Dick scuffed his shoes on the floor, waiting diligently for the billionaire's conversation to finish. Just don't bother him, Dick thought miserably. He's an important man and he has a lot of work to do. I'm lucky I got to do this much with him. If Alfred were here then he'd be the one to take me to the doctor.

"Alright Lucius, I'll be there in about twenty minutes. Thanks." He hung up the phone and signed the receipt from the transaction. After one more futile attempt to flash a well-received smile at the receptionist, Bruce exited the building with Dick in tow and got back into the Mercedes before joining the post-rush hour traffic through downtown Gotham.

As before, Dick remained absolutely silent in the car while watching the buildings go by through the window. The silence continued for a few minutes before Bruce cleared his throat and tried a tactic to break the quiet. "So are you excited for the trip tomorrow?"

"Yes sir." Dick replied quietly.

"Have you ever been to San Francisco before?"

"No sir."

"Oh…well I think you'll really like it. There's a big red bridge there that everyone calls the Golden Gate." He waited patiently for Dick to question why the bridge was named so when it was painted red instead of gold, and gradually grew discouraged with his efforts when no further response was elicited from his passenger. He tried a different tactic. "Did you say something back there about your arm?"

"Yeah. It's just a side effect of the shot though. It's fine." Dick focused on the window more intensely to prevent Bruce from seeing the flicker in his eyes that revealed the fact that he was not telling the entire truth. The dull throb from the shot persisted in his shoulder, but it was nothing a junior crime fighter in training could complain about. Dick felt especially uncomfortable complaining about it to a man who was currently preoccupied with running a multibillion-dollar international company that thousands of employees relied upon for their livelihoods.

Bruce, noting the finality in his charge's voice, did not push the issue further. "How about I call and order some pizza when we get to Wayne Tech?"

"I-I'm not very hungry anymore. It's okay Bruce. If, um, if you're okay with just giving me a couple bucks I'll get something out of the vending machine in the break room."

Bruce felt the dull ache in his stomach reach a sickening proportion. Way to go Wayne, he thought self-deprecatingly, now he doesn't even want to talk period. You happy now? You got your damned peace and quiet. Still…he _did_ have a lot of people relying on the success of this merger for their paychecks. And many of those people also had children. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that his own would have to wait just a few more hours.

I'll make it up to him, Bruce swore silently. I'll buy this kid a pizza from every damn pizzeria in the city if that's what'll make him happy once all this is over. I'll—, he glanced over at Dick once again, who was discreetly tracing the outlines of passing buildings on the window. —I'll figure _something_ out. Bruce set his jawline in grim determination, but inside he felt some crushing apprehension in his abilities to repay Dick for this incident.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, thank you everyone for your reviews of the last chapter. Based on feedback from one reviewer, in this chapter I italicize the thoughts of the characters to make it easier to read. I used to do this in my earlier writings, but I didn't really like doing it so I stopped. But I'm going to give it another go in this chapter and see how it feels. I apologize for the stylistic inconsistency from the earlier chapters. Hopefully it isn't too much of an annoyance for anyone.**

"Good evening, Mr. Wayne. Hello Dick!" Bruce's receptionist Mindy greeted them happily as she stood from her desk and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Bruce and Dick entered through the door leading away from the row of office cubicles on the top floor of Wayne Industries to a cool, understated waiting room that served as the foyer to his own CEO office.

"Hello, Mindy." The billionaire succeeded in eliminating the weariness from his voice. "What are you doing here so late? You should have gone home two hours ago."

"I know, Mr. Wayne." She said as she unconsciously reached behind her head to touch her messy bun. "I stayed late to help Mr. Fox draw up the merger papers. He's looking them over now in your office. They may take you a little while to get through. Maybe an hour or more."

Bruce sighed and caught a brief glimpse at Dick, whose attention was diverted intensely to a small decoration on Mindy's desk. "That's alright, Mindy."

She frowned and looked at the boy, noting his unusual failure to initiate bubbly conversation with the receptionist on first sighting. "Dick, is something wrong?"

He quickly looked up to meet her gaze. "Um, no. I just got my first shot." He shot a fleeting glance at Bruce before lowering his gaze back to the object on her desk.

Mindy looked suspiciously between Bruce and Dick for an instant. "Oh, I see. Poor baby, I'm sorry to hear that. Would you like me to stay with you while Mr. Wayne fills out the paperwork?"

"I don't think that will be necessary, Mindy." Bruce interjected quickly. "Dick is very good at entertaining himself, as you know. And I'll stress to Lucius that this needs to be done as quickly as possible."

She nodded uncertainly. "Of course, Mr. Wayne. Dick?"

"I'll be fine, Mindy. Don't worry, okay?" He deadpanned, tracing his finger in a small circle on her desk.

"Alright then, if you're okay then I'll see you both later." A look of discomfort flashed across her face as she gathered the last of her things and left the room. Bruce turned to Dick.

"Okay chum, you can either wait in this room or come into the office with Lucius and me. What would you like to do?"

"I can stay out here." His wide blue eyes met Bruce's and struck an incredible cord of sadness in the billionaire with the sheer amount of vulnerability reflected in them. Nonetheless, Bruce nodded curtly and pulled out his wallet.

"Here are a few dollars for the vending machine. I know it's tempting to get the candy, but please do Alfred a favor and go for a healthier option."

Dick returned the nod solemnly and wordlessly walked to the row of plush chairs outside of Bruce's office, plopping into the nearest one and proceeding to encircle his thumbs around each other.

Bruce paused for a moment and looked at Dick, his hand positioned on the doorknob to his office. "You alright chum?"

Dick jerked his head towards Bruce, an outstanding mixture of confusion and uncertainty tempered just barely by a layer of defiance marring the normally joyous features of his impish face. "Yeah. I'm fine. But I'm not that hungry, so you can probably have your money back if you want."

"No, that's fine. You hold on to it." Bruce studied the child for a moment, struggling to decide whether to be concerned about the slightly pale pallor appearing on the face of the boy whose wellbeing he had promised to ensure to the courts, to Child Welfare Services, to Haley's Circus, and to himself. He briefly studied the eyes that refused to quit his gaze despite the hurt that lurked within them, and quickly came to the conclusion that this was not a child easily intimidated and broken by a bit of common residual sickness or a few perhaps unnecessarily harsh words. _Bred to be strong_, Bruce thought solemnly as turned away from Dick to enter his office. _Bred to be strong through generations of hard workers, and his tempering started early and fiercely. If he's handled correctly, he'll become part of the exact structuring that this city needs._ However, despite his excitement regarding Dick's obvious displays of uncommon resolve throughout the day, Bruce's approving internal dialogue did not successfully quench the queasiness in his stomach as the image of the boy's saddened eyes danced in deeper corners of his mind.

* * *

Bruce sighed as he finished his signature on the last paper in the sizeable stack and looked at Lucius. "All done. How does that drink sound now?" The billionaire said as he flashed his famous tabloid grin at his CFO. Lucius, relaxing considerably, returned the smile and nodded.

"Well Bruce, you know that I would if you were still a true bachelor, but it's my understanding that you have some of your young family waiting outside! He has a soccer game coming up, right? He emailed me and asked if Marie and I wanted to come."

Being in his civilian persona, Bruce felt no need to lessen the great surprise that naturally came to him at this statement. "Email? He emails you?"

Lucius chuckled. "Didn't know about that? It appears your little boy doesn't need much help practicing his social skills for parties. He has everyone in this office wrapped around his finger. They all adore him, and not just to try and get favor from you. I mean they genuinely love having him here. When he told some of them that he joined the indoor soccer team a couple months ago and that he missed having big crowds cheering for him, they all of course jumped on that. Wanted to know when all of his games were so that they could come support him. Poor guy had to create his own Wayne Industries email account just to keep everything straight!"

Bruce frowned. "Exactly who does he email?"

Lucius shot Bruce a knowing smile, and the billionaire shifted uncomfortably. "Now don't worry, Bruce. Dick will never find harm in anything that has to do with Wayne Industries. The only people on that list are Mindy, Dan, Ron, Jessica and myself. Besides, I have access to all our email accounts. His gets checked regularly. It's always squeaky clean. Not so much as a spelling mistake." He winked.

Bruce relaxed as he heard the names of some of his most trusted employees. _Well, I can't blame them for getting attached. His joviality is…hard to resist._ _Maybe…maybe even for Batman sometimes_. A small smile unconsciously came to his lips. _He's light-years ahead of where I was socially when I was his age, even with the same barriers. Hell, he's light-years ahead of where I am now. I have to try at this stuff. It all comes naturally to him._ "Thanks for keeping an eye on that Lucius. I don't see any reason for me to interfere in Dick's obviously harmless social life. As for his game next weekend, I know he'd love to have more people out there supporting him…he's a starter you know." Bruce frowned at himself internally and pondered why he felt happiness at having been able to add that unnecessary statement at the end of his sentence.

Lucius' knowing smile grew as he shook his head. "Yes Bruce, I know about that. You've told me already."

"Ah. Well then, if our business is concluded then I should probably get back to him." Bruce stood to shake hands with Lucius and the two men exited the office to find Dick still sitting in the same chair as an hour before. Lucius approached the boy first. "Hello Dick. How are you today?"

Dick smiled and bolted out of his chair to greet the CFO. "Hi Lucius! I'm okay. Are you coming to my next soccer game?"

"Of course! Can't wait to see you throw more of those acrobat moves into the game! Just don't get a yellow card this time for it, okay?"

Dick giggled and Bruce looked on at the pair. _Is it…envy that I feel when I see how easily everyone else can interact with him?_ He shook the thought away quickly and cleared his throat. "Dick, ready to go?"

The smile slid off Dick's face as he nodded wordlessly. They said their goodbyes to Lucius and walked down to the car garage in silence. It was not until the car had pulled out of the Wayne Industries garage that Bruce began to speak. "So did you get something to eat from the vending machine?"

"No. I'm still not really hungry." Dick answered in a small voice.

"Would you like to swing by Sultan of Pizza and see if it's still open?"

"No, it's okay. Really Bruce, I'm not hungry."

"Dick, I want you to have something for dinner. What would you like?"

"Bruce! I _said_ I'm not hungry!" Dick snapped, his face instantly clouding with worry as soon as the words left his mouth.

Bruce snapped his head towards Dick as he continued to drive. "_Excuse_ me? Do you think you can use that tone with me?"

"I-I'm sorry Bruce!" Dick sputtered quickly. "It's just—I'm really not hungry. But if you want me to eat something for dinner, there are some bananas in the fridge at home. I can have a few of those. Is—Is that okay?" He bit his lip.

Bruce stared at Dick briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "Yeah chum, if you really aren't hungry then that's fine." _After this disaster of a night, I'd be fine with you eating anything, really, just so we can put today behind us and focus on more pressing matters—like the trip. _Bruce thought with a touch of bitterness and guilt. _More pressing, and just plain easier_.

Dick returned to his previous position of staring miserably out the window, which was now beginning to streak with drops from an equally wretched storm of slushy rain and snow. _No wonder he yells at me_, the boy thought under a veritable cloud of despair. _He does all this stuff for me and I can't even behave for him_. _It's just—I'm not hungry anymore!_ The pair sat in silence as the car rumbled through the streets of Gotham and on into the countryside, both with their minds occupied in the upcoming trip to San Francisco, but with one looking to it for salvation and the other imagining the increasingly far-fetched ways that it could deepen the current chasm between the child and his guardian. Unconsciously, Dick reached his hand up to his forehead in a vain attempt to stem the brief but sudden bought of dizziness that seemed to be an outgrowth from his increasing headache. _Keep it together Grayson_, he gritted his teeth and sunk further into the plush leather of his seat.

* * *

Bruce sighed as he leaned back into his study armchair, eliciting a creak from the antiquated piece of furniture. The rest of the night to this point had passed with relative ease. After they had arrived home, Dick unenthusiastically nibbled on two bananas before asking to be excused to bed at an earlier hour than normal. The billionaire frowned as he recalled the brief conversation between himself and Dick in the kitchen that would serve as the end of their rocky relations for the day. Bruce was far more accustomed to the boy begging, borrowing and stealing every minute past his typical 9:00 PM bedtime from the steeled grips of Alfred's impeccable timekeeping. Dick had quickly discovered that, if Bruce's mood was decent, he could at times go to his guardian to have Alfred's bedtime authority briefly superseded in favor of allowing the boy to spend more time assisting Bruce in the cave. Bruce allowed a ghost of a smile to grace his mouth. _Yeah, assist. More like hypothesize theories of vampires and zombies that commit crimes in between downloading video game cheats. Still, he did make the final connection in the Gilbert murder that led to the perp's arrest. That was something even I missed at first. He has promise, no doubt in the world about that._

Bruce's mouth twitched downwards as he continued his train of thought. Alfred's rare absence from the Wayne household should have been something that Dick would have seized as an opportunity to stay up into the late hours of the night performing one of his favorite activities: acrobatics in the cave while discussing a case with the Dark Knight. However, Dick had asked to be excused from the kitchen to bed scarcely after the large grandfather clock in the foyer had struck 8:00 PM.

Bruce shook his head. _Is he still that angry at me? He's usually so very forgiving to a fault…_He shook his head. _This will all blow over soon. We'll go to San Francisco and I'll see to it that he has a lot of fun there and this pain in my side will all go away._

The shrill ring of a phone on his desk broke Bruce's train of thought. A glance at the caller ID confirmed his suspicions as he reached for the handset. "Hello Alfred."

The cool British voice on the other end of the line answered without a hint of surprise. "Hello, Master Bruce. I am calling to inform you that Dr. Thompkins and I have landed safely in San Francisco and as we speak are en route to the hotel."

"That's good to hear, Alfred. How was first class?"

"The flight attendants are in sore need of a lesson regarding the proper tying of a tie, but this is a minor complaint in a world filled with apt things to complain about. May I inquire as to how Master Dick is feeling after his shot?"

"He's fine. He handled the shot like a champ. But I think it's been a long day for him. He went to bed a couple hours ago."

Concern broke through the butler's voice. "That early? Is the young master feeling under the weather?"

"He's…he's alright I think, Alfred. Just tired. I'd prefer that he get his sleep now anyway. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for him, with the plane ride and all."

The silent pause on Alfred's end spoke volumes of the hidden meanings he had perceived from Bruce's response. "Was there some sort of an issue between yourself and the young master today?"

Bruce sighed exasperatedly. "I might have been a bit harsh on him while I was trying to deal with some things that came up with the merger. But he'll be fine, Alfred. I'll make it up to him in San Francisco and he'll forget the whole thing." _I hope he forgets the whole thing_, Bruce amended silently.

"Master Bruce, Master Dick is an incredibly aware child. He cannot be swayed as many children can by promises of sweets, toys, fun, or whatever else you may have been planning to give him to ease your guilt. If you truly would like to return things to normal between the two of you in a way that would be meaningful to him, you must _talk _to him about why he is upset and understand that what you perceive to be a mere slip-up of words may indeed be indicative to him of something much deeper."

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. "I know he's aware, Alfred. I'm not trying to buy him off or anything, I know he's too good for that. "I'll…I'll try to talk to him a little bit on the plane or…or something." He finished lamely.

Alfred's response was almost palpable with disapproval, those he exchanged no actual words that reflected as such. "Very well then, Master Bruce. I leave the situation in your _capable hands_. We have arrived at the hotel and I must now assist Dr. Thompkins with checking into our rooms. I trust you may handle yourself for the rest of the night?"

"Yes Alfred. Have a good night." And with that, he returned the phone to its cradle on the desk and ran his hand through his dark, currently slightly unkempt hair.

_Dammit._

Bruce stood from his chair and crossed the room to the personal bar in the corner. His hand passed over several fifty-year old bottles of scotch before selecting a plastic water bottle tucked into the corner of the case. Opening up the miniature refrigerator at the base of the bar, he plopped a few ice cubes into a waiting glass and then poured the water over them. Slowly, he sipped the water, savoring it as the cold liquid ran down his throat.

Bruce continued to stand before the bar for several minutes, sipping the water and letting it wash over his thoughts as he tried desperately to straighten all of them. He attempted to replace his thoughts concerning Dick and Alfred's words with the nuances of the cases that Batman was occupied with at the moment. However, no matter how hard the vigilante fought to dedicate his entire focus to analyzing the string of murders, extortions, and major international drug deals currently besetting his city, his thoughts always seemed to be strangely juxtaposed with the image of a precocious child smiling up at him in excitement, and images of that same child with his head bowed in disappointment and hurt. Recalling the welling of tears in Dick's eyes from earlier in the car, a wave of anxiety hit Bruce and chased away all remaining thoughts of Gotham's underworld. _I need to check on him. I just…I need to do that. _Bruce did not attempt to fight this thought that seemed to come inexplicably from the air to plague his mind with worry that could only be assuaged by seeing the boy safely asleep in his bed.

His concern making the decision for him, Bruce set down the glass, walked out of the office and up the stairs to Dick's bedroom. He paused for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, trying dreadfully to find some explanatory words for the boy in the off chance that he was still awake. Unable to accomplish this task, Bruce took a deep breath and opened the door, letting light from the hallway spill into the darkened room.

Bruce took one look at the tiny sleeping form and instantly recognized that something was wrong. From the doorway, he could hear the boy's labored, wheezing breath and see that he was shifting uncomfortably under the covers. In an instant, the panicked guardian crossed the room and had his hand on Dick's shoulder. "Dick, are you alright? Is everything…." The rest of his sentence was cut off by his sharp intake of breath as he pulled the covers off the boy.

A massive rash on Dick's left arm seemed to devour the majority of the extremity. The pain that it caused him was confirmed by his reddened, watery eyes and tear-streaked face. Without thinking, Bruce yanked up Dick's sweaty pajama T-shirt and held back a cry in his throat as he saw that the hideous rash had spread through the majority of the boy's chest, stomach and back. His hand instantly flew to Dick's forehead before pulling back hastily from the source of elevated body heat. "Dick?!" He choked out.

Dick opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly engulfed by an ugly cough. He grabbed his guardian's arm. "B-B-Br-uuuce…" He managed to say in between coughs and increasingly difficult wheezing.

_Oh God_. Bruce thought as every other conscious and unconscious part of his brain was thrown into a frenzied panic. _Oh God Oh God Oh God. It's an allergic reaction. He's having an allergic reaction to that shot. It was right in front of me for hours and I didn't see it._ He snatched the small body into his arms and stared at the face that was burying into his chest, wetting his shirt with tears. "I-It h-h-h-hurt-s!" Dick cried as his whole body shook in Bruce's arms from his labored breathing.

_OH GOD! _"Hang on chum! I'm here!" His entire body overtaken by adrenaline, Bruce ran out the door with Dick, clad only in his pajamas, in his arms. As the pair flew through the house to the garage, a myriad of possible outcomes plagued Bruce's mind, each more terrible than the last. _He's just a baby_, he winced as another body-shattering cough wracked through Dick, _he's just a baby that wanted some goddamn pizza today._ _That's all he wanted. _He glanced down at Dick's face briefly as they climbed down the stairs to the garage and noted that it appeared to be increasingly more delirious, with a glaze starting to form over the reddened, pain-filled eyes as a tiny hand grabbed a fistful of Bruce's shirt in an effort to keep hold on reality.

_Please let my baby be okay_, Bruce begged to any force in the universe that would listen. "Dick? Talk to me chum!"

The boy glanced up at his guardian with his open mouth struggling to gain more oxygen, but his only response to Bruce's demand was another cough.

Bruce skidded to a halt at the nearest car, which happened to be one of his Porsches. He threw open the passenger door and put Dick in the seat, his hand feeling the boy's forehead again as the other hand buckled the seatbelt. Closing the door to the expensive car with a slam, he slid across the hood to the driver's side and threw the key to the car on, not bothering to take the time to put on his own seatbelt. The engine roared to life instantaneously as Bruce floored the gas pedal, reaching about sixty miles an hour by the time the car passed through the long garage to the door. He accelerated more as the car entered the long, winding country road away from Wayne Manor, pushing the speedometer into the red zone.

Bruce chanced a glance at Dick in the seat next him. The boy was silent save for the occasional whimper of pain as he stared listlessly at the floor of the car. _You're going to be fine_, Bruce looked back at the road and forced the car to even higher speeds. _You're going to be fine, you're going to be fine, you're going to be fine…_


	4. Chapter 4

**First of all, I apologize for how late this update has been. I'm finishing up here in Ecuador, so I don't have much time to write. Second, thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. It's been great to read all those and I appreciate the effort people take to write them. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last ones.**

* * *

Dick gazed transfixed through heavily lidded eyes at the eerie yellow streak of light from street lamps on a darkened nighttime background as the car sped past them. Through an oxygen-depraved haze, his young but trained deductive reasoning became dimly aware of three things: that the pain in his body appeared to be worsening; that either the car or his mind (or both?) were moving at unusual enough of a pace to morph all the street lights into one continuous band of yellow hovering in the sky; and that the driver of said vehicle did not seem to notice the phenomenon outside the car that currently had Dick's sincere fascination. In fact, he did not seem to notice much of anything, and Dick wondered if it had to do with the wave of anxiety he could feel wicking off the man. Dick opened his mouth, unsure of whether the next words to come out of his mouth would be meant to comfort his guardian or to beg for his help in salvation from pain. However, he struggled to croak out only one word. "Bruuuuceee…"

Bruce snapped his head towards the sickened child. "Say something to me, Dick. Where does it hurt?"

A moan escaped Dick's mouth, confirming Bruce's fear of the extent of the agony that the boy was currently in. Frantically he seized upon any subject to keep the boy trying to talk, to keep him as focused and alert as possible until he could be delivered into the proper healing hands. "Dick, I need you to listen to what I'm saying. Do you remember that case with the Riddler that we closed last week? How many banks did he rob the night you helped me catch him?"

"Hnnnn…" The failed attempt at a response did nothing to lessen Bruce's stress.

"_Robin_!" He yelled, using the gravelly rasp of a voice typically reserved only for his dark alter-ego to evoke the name of the young hero in training. "I want you to _report_! How many banks did the Riddler rob last Thursday night prior to being apprehended by Batman!?"

"T…T…Three." Dick wheezed in between another spasm of coughs.

"Good boy. One what side of the cave is Sewer Access Point Beta located?"

"S…South." His voice quivered more with this response as he fought to suppress the coughs long enough to answer his demanding guardian.

"Good!" Bruce barked as he jerked the wheel to negotiate a ninety-degree right turn, the wheels of the car screeching loudly as they skidded to avoid the curb. "For how many years has Poison Ivy been an active criminal in Gotham City?"

"Hnnn…" Dick's head fell with a resolute thump against the side window, his face red with exertion as his wheezing became more labored and his glazed, lidded eyes stared limply at the dashboard.

"Answer me, Robin…I need you to stay focused, Dick!" Upon noting no response from the boy, Bruce swore and jerked the wheel again to send the car flying into the hospital parking lot. The car's tires squealed to a stop parallel and inches away from the curb before the entryway underneath the glowing red "EMERGENCY" banner. Ignoring the angry red paint outlining the curb that denoted expensive punishment to anyone outside of an ambulance who attempted to station their car there, Bruce threw the machine into park and yanked the key out of the ignition.

Within the blink of an eye, he had exited the vehicle and crossed to the passenger side. Wrenching the door open and unbuckling the seat belt, the panicked parent averted his eyes from Dick's pained and reddened body which clashed heartbreakingly with the blue and white Superman-insignia emblazoned pajama pants and tank top that he had worn to bed that night.

The automatic doors slid open in what seemed like years too slowly for Bruce as he bounded into the reception room with uncommon agility and athleticism despite the large bundle in his arms—had a trained eye been looking, its owner might have questioned exactly how a billionaire playboy more accustomed to discussing the merits of different vintages of scotch than to strenuous exercise had learned to move in such a manner. However, the relatively unoccupied waiting area held no such similarly skilled people, and even if it did, they would have been focused on the same sight as the others in the room: Bruce's ashen face, creased with worry and thinly masked anxiety.

Coming to a halt at the front desk, Bruce rasped to the attendant. "He's sick. It's an allergic reaction to the Hepatitis A vaccine. He needs medical treatment and he needs it now." Despite the words coming out of the billionaire's mouth, he unconsciously drew Dick closer to him, thwarting the attendant's attempts to stand up and get a better look at the boy.

He briefly glanced between Bruce's pinched and stressed expression and Dick's half-hidden face and nodded gravely before pressing a button on the desk to activate the intercom to the room beyond the doors next to the desk. "I need a bed out here. Prepare to treat anaphylactic shock induced from an allergic reaction to a vaccine." The attendant spoke calmly, but with an unmistakable air of urgency.

"You couldn't impress on them a bit more emphasis on the _hurrying_ part!? He's...he's getting worse!" Bruce snapped angrily a split second after he dared to peek at Dick's face and noted that the boy showed no obvious signs of consciousness and that his breathing now came in short, distanced wheezes of desperation.

The attendant opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the bang of a door next to him as several nurses wheeling a hospital bed in between them came to a halt in front of Bruce. One of the taller nurses planted herself firmly in front of him and urgently indicated from Dick to the bed. "Hurry, put him here. We need to take him immediately."

For one brief millisecond, Bruce's grip tightened around Dick. A thought flashed through his head and activated a level of fear in his mind that he'd long thought impossible for him to reach: _what if I never get to hold him again? _

The thought disappeared as quickly as it had come as he promptly handed Dick over to the care of the medical staff. Bruce steeled his jaw and set a determined frown on his face. Batman did not have those kinds of thoughts, and that was non-negotiable.

But then again, it was not Batman who was in the hospital right now. It was not Batman who had just handed his only child to a group of strangers with the empty unspoken promise that they would be able to stem the illness that had taken the boy's body by storm within the last few hours and threatened to take from Bruce the one person in the world that he had no emotional contingency plan for losing.

Fighting to keep his steeled expression on his face despite the pained worries from the more annoyingly human parts of his mind—parts that, at the moment devoid of logic and motivated through sheer instinct, were telling him to break down the door into the back rooms and run to his baby to prevent some perceived heinous…_something_ from happening to him—fought to break down the steady look.

Slowly, Bruce turned to face the rest of the waiting room. At this hour on a Thursday night it contained only around ten or fifteen people, all of whom were staring at him in amazement. Bruce swore mentally, knowing that they couldn't be blamed. One of Gotham City's most famous citizens had just rushed through the door at eleven o'clock at night with a boy clad in pajamas in his arms and frantically demanded medical attention—and not just any boy, but rather the very child whose face had plastered the front page of every Gotham gossip magazine some seven months earlier, replacing all the previous images of his guardian swooning drunkenly with each arm around some beautiful model with a busty top.

Bruce turned his gaze from the shocked waiting room occupants down to his own attire. His black leather Armani dress shoes that had been hastily thrown on earlier because they were the most readily available in the moment of emergency clashed—rather comically to the objective observer—with the sweatpants that he had changed into after returning to Wayne Manor so that he could practice his Tang Soo Do technique. Having performed this activity without a shirt, he had simply redressed himself in his pressed dress shirt from earlier before going to work in his study. That shirt was currently rumpled and wrinkled in a way that Alfred would have found obscene, the sleeves were pulled back to reveal his bare, well-muscled forearms and the last two buttons on the shirt were undone. Sighing, he carefully, purposefully buttoned the undone buttons.

"Excuse me, sir?" A voice from behind him brought Bruce's attention back to more pressing matters as he turned to look back at the reception desk attendant. "While you're waiting, you'll need to fill out this paperwork. Just bring it back to me when you're done."

Wordlessly, the exhausted guardian accepted the clipboard from the attendant and then made his way to an unoccupied chair sequestered from the room's sparse occupants. As soon as he sat down, however, the clipboard was dumped unceremoniously on an end table next to the seat and momentarily forgotten.

Bruce's thoughts for the next hour ranged from the Joker's most recent Arkham outbreak; to ancient Japanese meditation techniques; to the burning, unending shame he felt as he considered how Dick had been treated tonight; to possible crime scenarios that could arise from Two-Face's irrational obsession with the number that served as his namesake; to the upcoming Justice League meeting which would undoubtedly involve another tireless speech regarding the nature teamwork or some equally useless topic from Wonder Woman; to the revolting level of fear he felt at the idea that whatever treatments the doctors were currently administering to Dick would ultimately be unsuccessful. Consciously he fought valiantly to steer his thoughts towards the logical, the emotionless, the analytical. Subconsciously, however, his mind drifted relentlessly back towards the crisis at hand, and the unimaginable stakes at risk of loss. This fight for the dominance of his thoughts continued until the crime fighter within Bruce gained the upper hand.

_Stop it_, the harsh voice normally reserved for his nights at Batman commanded. _You are losing control of yourself and a man in your position cannot afford to do that._

Bruce increased the pressure of his grip on both sides of the bottom of the chair ever so slightly. _Most people would consider this a circumstance in which a loss of self-control would be permissible._

_**You **__are not most people._ The dominant voice responded firmly. _Use your mind. The boy is at the best hospital in Gotham. He will be fine._

Bruce nodded slightly to confirm the victory of his more rational side. He waited for a split second for a response, and seemingly assured that there would be none, allowed himself to relax slightly.

…_But what if he isn't?_

His grip once again tightened on the chair to the point where the cheap plastic began to crack under the strain. _Shut up._

Instantly he sat bolt upright as another thought came to him: _Alfred. Alfred doesn't know yet. _He glanced at the watch on his wrist. The delicate, gold-inlaid hands denoted that it was now 11:22 PM. _Only 8:22 on the west coast…but the man has been traveling since afternoon, and he isn't adjusted to that time zone so he must be tired. _The billionaire paused momentarily before shaking his head. _But Alfred doesn't get tired, under any circumstances. _

With that thought in mind, he got up from his chair and walked down a hallway away from the waiting room and turned towards two members of the dying breed of Gotham City payphones. Mentally berating himself for his failure to keep his cell phone with him during a time of personal civilian crisis, Bruce reached into the pocket of the worn grey sweat pants and pulled out his wallet, which he had miraculously managed to grab off the end table outside of the garage entrance as he rushed past it with Dick in his arms. From the wallet he pulled out a few dollars' worth of coins and began to insert them one at a time, the satisfying click of the coins hitting the bottom of the payphone money slot providing reassurance that the ancient machines still worked. He then picked up the receiver and quickly dialed the number for Alfred's seldom-used cell phone, long since memorized by his charges for emergencies precisely like this one.

The phone began to ring as Bruce listened with bated breath. On the fifth ring, a British voice that was remarkably cool given the later evening intrusion answered crisply. "Alfred Pennyworth speaking. To whom may I inquire is calling?"

Bruce sucked in his breath before beginning. "Alfred. It's me."

"Master Bruce?" The surprise in the butler's voice quickly replaced his former distanced and thinly veiled suspicion. "Good heavens, why are you calling from a private Gotham City number instead of one of those countless communication devices you have strung about the house, the office and downstairs?"

"I'm calling from a payphone…at Gotham General. My cell is back at the Manor." Bruce spat the words jaggedly out of his mouth, regretting each of them as they were spoken.

The pause on the other end of the line spoke volumes of the thoughts running through Alfred's head. "Is…everything alright with the young master?"

Bruce ran his hand through his tousled black hair. "Not…not exactly. I took him in to Leslie's clinic today to get his Hep A vaccine for school and…he had a pretty serious reaction to it. So I took him to the hospital and they're treating him now."

Alfred proceeded as cautiously as he dared, knowing the storm that must be brewing under Bruce's seemingly relative calm. "How serious is the reaction?"

"It was fairly advanced by the time he was taken in for emergency care."

Alfred noted that any semblance of emotion had been stricken in this reply from Bruce. There were the walls, going up again between his older charge and the world. After years of fruitless attempts to circumvent them, Alfred had almost given up hope that Bruce would ever demonstrate a feeling beyond a lust for vengeance and a desire to create fear in a population already feared by anyone decent. But then, he'd gained an unbeatable ally in the form of a small boy with an enormous will to brighten any room he walked in to. Within a few months of the tragic circumstances that had brought Dick to the doorstep of Wayne Manor, Alfred had noticed a dramatic change in the amount of time his older charge allowed himself to be happy. Now, however, it seemed that with that light in danger, Bruce's former soulless self was attempting to reappear. Bruce's state of mind, however, could not be Alfred's most consuming concern at the moment. Not when it was Dick that was struggling.

"I can be on a plane back to Gotham City within the hour." Alfred replied gravely.

Bruce stiffened, a small part of him screaming to insist that his loyal butler, friend and surrogate father do just that. But logic—and perhaps a bit of subconscious pride and not a little of forced denial—won the right of reply. "No, Alfred, there's nothing you can do here. Dick…is going to be treated and safe by the time you'd get back to Gotham. He won't be making it to San Francisco; they'll want to keep him overnight no doubt. But he'll be fine. It's advanced, but he'll be fine. You'll see him on Sunday when we're supposed to fly home."

"Master Bruce, I entreat you to spare the heart of an old man and inform me that you are not still planning on going to San Francisco after this hardship on Master Dick."

Bruce sighed, feeling a tension headache approaching. Truly he wanted to remain in Gotham City to face whatever may come with his boy. But the cold, hard fact remained that many jobs were on the line with this merger, and with that, the livelihoods of many families. "I'm going to see how the situation plays out. If things get worse, I'll stay. But if they improve, I need to go. I'll push the trip back to Saturday and ask Lucius to look after Dick at his home while he finishes recovering. They'll both understand. This trip is important."

"_Master Bruce!_" The voice on the other end of the line was practically shaking. "Your _son _is in _intensive care_! Gotham City family court, all the people who helped you secure custody of that boy, and quite frankly all definitions of good parenting demand that you stay with him until he has regained his health!"

"I KNOW, ALFRED!" Bruce shouted into the phone. "I know that I need to be here with him! But the fact is that I _can't _be unless it's absolutely necessary! You know that! The best I can do is being here to get him through the worst of it and make it up to him later!"

"And if you do not get the opportunity to make it up to him later, sir? If things are as serious as you indicated earlier?" Alfred said quietly, hoping that the gravity and true meaning of his words would resonate with his older charge.

"I've…taken that possibility into account already. And come to the conclusion that it's not going to happen." _I won't let it_, Bruce amended silently.

"Bruce," Alfred continued more gently. "There is not a person on this earth whose opinions deserve consideration that wouldn't wish you to remain with him at that hospital—and with him through the recovery—rather than attend this event. Many people depend on the success of this merger, yes; but the most important of them all depends on you being there."

The billionaire closed his eyes and rubbed them. "To be honest, I think I'm going to be the last person he wants to see when he gets better." _Keep saying when. Never if. Never._

"Good heavens sir, why ever would you think that? Did some incident happen between the two of you this evening?" Alfred pressed gently.

Bruce sighed again before beginning. He quickly recounted the events of the night, starting from when he had received the phone call informing him that the evening's plans would have to be changed much to Dick's disappointment up until when he discovered the sickened boy after an early bedtime.

"So now you know, Alfred. I yelled at him because I couldn't deal with a company and a child at the same time. I yelled at him for some petty thing and then made him get a shot that gave him an allergic reaction—which I ignored and which caused him worse and worse pain and put him in more and more danger as the night went on. I…I'm not fit to be his guardian, am I?" Bruce finished, trying to keep the misery out of his voice.

"Master Bruce." Alfred began. "I am going to share with you a lesson that I learned many years ago with another little boy that was in a different kind of but equally serious danger. Part of the life of a child is to learn the nature of pain: both physical and otherwise. As a parent, it the most heartbreaking thing of all to witness because, from the moment they enter our care, we dedicate our lives to their protection. But what every successful parent must learn at one moment or another is that children experience pain so that they may learn how to bear it, so that they may not fear life when they leave our care. It is difficult to accept this, I am aware. But that, Master Bruce, is the ultimate job of a child's guardian. To protect them from hurt whenever it is avoidable, and to be there for them in whatever way when it is not. Let me assure you that Master Dick's current predicament belongs to the latter category."

"I just don't know how I'm going to make it all up to him." Bruce allowed a tiny fraction of the desperation he felt to seep into his voice.

"Children are far more aware than they are given credit for. If you give him what he truly craves most—your time—then he will see the compensation you are offering him as an apology for past transgressions and a small acknowledgement of mistakes. What I am saying, Master Bruce, is that you must simply make more time to be with him after this incident is resolved. The lesser issues have a habit of disappearing once the larger issue is addressed."

"It's just…I…thank you, Alfred." Bruce gave up any defense or attempt at deeper discussion, knowing that the wisdom of the butler's advice needed no further dialogue to support it.

"You are quite welcome, sir. Now, I believe that there is a sick boy that needs you far more than I do. I will return to Dr. Thompkins to appraise her of the situation and together we will eagerly await your next phone call, which I sincerely hope will arrive soon with good tidings."

Bruce nodded. "Alright, Alfred. I'll keep you and Leslie updated on everything and call as soon as I have news."

"Very good sir. And…one more item to mention."

"Yes?"

"…Do bring our boy home safe, Master Bruce. I-I cannot bear to imagine Wayne Manor without his antics gracing its presence." The butler stuttered slightly, the only audible break in what had been an otherwise perfect composure.

The billionaire swallowed in an effort to hold back the emotions. "Neither can I. I'll make sure he gets back there."

With that, he hung up the payphone with a resounding click. He stared at the ancient receiver for a minute, carefully considering Alfred's words. Then a new thought occurred to him: _that paperwork. Damn_. Silently cursing the hell-bound bureaucrat that had the first notion to require paperwork in an emergency room, Bruce turned on his heels and walked back to the waiting room. No sooner had he sat down and picked up the pen that a doctor materialized directly in front of him seemingly from nowhere. He registered that her coat had the embroidered name of Dr. Kimberley Minudry. He also registered that a ticking bomb of fear just exploded in his stomach.

"Mr. Wayne?" She offered tentatively.

"Yes?" Through painstaking effort, he forced his suddenly dry mouth to function normally.

"Please come with me." She turned suddenly and went back through the door leading to the emergency operating and patient rooms. Bruce got up and followed her, fighting desperately to ignore the fact that his legs seemed to be made of Alfred's flan dessert.

The door shut behind them, cutting off access to the prying eyes and ears beyond. She turned to Bruce and gave him a serious look. "First of all, let me tell you that we were able to get Dick stabilized. For now, he's alright. I'll explain to you in brief the treatment we did for him, and then I'll take you to see him. Is that alright?"

Bruce swallowed and nodded, knowing that whatever words came out of her mouth next would have to be listened to through the muffling sound of sweet relief.

* * *

**Please bear in mind that I have no medical training or much knowledge, so please be kind when considering any medical jargon and procedures in this story. Also, just to clarify, I don't think vaccines are dangerous or that people should avoid them. The health benefits of getting them by far outweigh the tiny chance of an adverse reaction. But there are always those one in a million cases. Anyway, the next chapter will be the last for this story. Hope everyone has enjoyed reading it so far, because I've had a blast writing it.**


End file.
